"I adore you."

As the temperature has slowly climbed back towards normal cold instead of ass freezing, fingers numb cold, so has my love life. Girls have been flirting. I have been
. . . flirting back. What what? Has Hell frozen over in addition to New York?

Option One:

P, the hot butchie Columbian girl. She definitely flirts with me and her self professed predilection for strap-ons and sex parties definitely raises this woman's eyebrow in a hmmm, tell me more kind of way, but is younger and seems more suited for sexy naked time than partner status.

Option Two:

L, the older, beautiful trial lawyer from Tennessee by way of Bay Ridge. Total power dyke, wants to be the bread winner so she can take care of her woman. She fulfills all my Law & Order fantasies, but I'm getting mixed signals. Is she interested or just friendly? Maybe I'm just being dense. You decide.

Last night I attended a networking happy hour hosted by Out Professionals. Small bar + lots of lesbians = lots of jostling. Anyway, I hung out with some of my Lesbian Club members including Lawyer Girl, who is a recent addition. We hang out, talk, blah blah, get drunk, and then go in search of food since I am drunk and need something to soak up the martini and red wine. Since she is a lawyer, she has some deal thing with a car service and insists on dropping me home. Bonus. So we head back in the car and she says, "You should just crash with me." Okay, whatever. I'm easy. More conversation happens as she tries to work out the driving details with the driver. He keeps asking what my address is and I give him directions. I think she says something to him like, "I'm trying to get a girl to go home to me." Is she just being funny?

We talk some more about girls and relationships. At one point she puts a hand on my knee and says, "So what are you looking for?" I give her my whole I just want someone who's sane and got their shit together speech. We go back and forth a little before she says, "Rouge, I adore you." Again, is she just being friendly or flirty?

When the driver ends up driving to my place instead of Bay Ridge, she seems disappointed. Frankly I was getting a little acclimated to the idea of crashing at her place. Oh well. We're supposed to meet up on Friday, so there's still time to get to know each other.

On the downside, she's seven years older than me and in that point her in life where she wants to buy a place, settle down, and have kids. She's well aware that I don't want kids (or at least that's how I feel at 28), so is she really getting all up in my grill?? PS -- she totally texted me this morning to say, "Rise and Shine! Have a good day. See you Friday."

Option Three (Oh yes, there's an Option Three):

Flashback to last night's networking happy hour. In the jostling of 200 lesbians trying to navigate a small room and the path to the bar, a really cute girl has to cut through a conversation that I'm having with a few of my friends in order to get to the bar. I graciously let her through and when she's gone, my friend and I remark on her hotness. Luckily for me, Cute Girl comes back with a beer and I start talking to her. She's from California and lives not too far from me. I tell her about Lesbian Club and we bond over our dislike of lesbian cliche sports activities (ie, softball). I lure her in with tales of Lesbian Club picnics in Prospect Park, nerdy activities, and brunches in her 'hood. "Okay, I'll definitely sign up," she says with a smile. I give her my business card and tell her to email me if she wants to get on my list. When she leaves to go meetup with a friend, my friends say that Cute Girl was definitely interested in more than my group. Hmmm. Really?

The proof came this morning when I got into work and saw the red flashing light on my phone. Cute Girl had left a voice mail saying that she enjoyed meeting me and wants to get on my list and hopes to see me soon. If that wasn't enough, she left the message right after she left the bar. Either she's my new stalker or she's super eager to "network" with me.

Choices, choices, choices.